[[OLD]] A Handful of Daffodils (Forgotten Series, #7)

Chapter Seventy-Two

A week later

I carefully wrapped the plate in my hand with newspaper, setting it on the already wrapped set. The house was slowly being packed away. There were more full boxes than not. An entire life packed away. It felt like I was slowly closing the door on my life with Chrissie, that I was finally accepting that she was gone.

I glanced at the one picture of her I still had left on the wall. "I'm trying, sunshine." My voice cracked and I swallowed hard. The grief was... it was overwhelming at times and not just because of losing her. It was losing the comfort of what I knew that was hard and then the grief of what I had done to lose that small bit of life I had created after her.

I didn't want to think I had become obsessive over the situation with Menza but it was difficult not to think about it constantly. I thought about how she came into my life, how I first treated her, how I realized how horrible I had been, then how she had helped build me a life after Chrissie.

That thought hurt.

Menza had carefully and gently helped create me a life outside of the loss I had. She had helped me mourn, helped me grieve, she was always right there beside me to make sure I was okay and that I and Maeve were taken care of. I remembered how I would force her to take breaks, how beautiful her laugh was, how wonderful her smile was.

Mike's words haunted me, that I liked her like a male likes a female and they were painful and I wanted to deny it but I was finding it harder and harder to do so. It was screaming at me in the quiet parts of the night and on the rare occasions where my head was silent. I knew I was going to have to come to a realization and an acceptance at some point but as I packed away the life Chrissie and I had lived together, it was just too painful.

It was worse when I thought back on that night. I had tried hard not too, even when she and Maeve had been lost. I had buried it deep down, refusing to think about it at all. Now it burbled up every so often, especially when it was dark out and the moon was at her highest. It would rise up and out of the depths like a spectre hell bent on haunting me. The memories of her soft skin, the gentle curves of her body, the cloud of curls she had spread out over the pillows of the bed, her warmth and flower scent. They haunted my nights much like the shame and regret haunted my days.

I took to sleeping on the couch.

I couldn't lay in my bed, where we had done that, and not think about her and what had happened. Not just the sex but realizing my emotions afterwards was hard. I had coloured her with a manufactured perception that she was vindictive, that she was cruel, that she was spiteful. Looking back on all of it with the perception of her shattered all I could see was me running scared because we had sex. I had coated myself in the anger because anger was better than feeling like I betrayed Chrissie. The anger had been better than the terror that Menza and Maeve were lost, that the rogues had them, that they died. It was better to hate Menza, to claim she created this elaborate plot to steal Maeve because at least then there was the hope that Maeve was safe, that Menza was alive.

It didn't make me feel any better about any of it.

Self-reflection was a double edged sword for me, one that had gutted me and was slowly being twisted to maximize the damage and the pain. Because the absolute truth was Menza was a kind, sweet, loyal female that I had lied about, that I had reviled because she scared me in ways I would barely acknowledge, even now. The truth was I had twisted reality, refused the truth, listened to people I knew I never should have listened too, and nearly killed her.

As the Hunter had said, regardless of her breathing, she had died on that post, had been sent to Mene where the curse was put on her. I didn't know the details, didn't know if I even wanted to hear the details, but if Stenton found out about the pregnancy, Mene would kill them both. There was a brutality to the curse Mene had placed on her and it terrified me. It hadn't been enough that she crossed over to Mene after the punishment I sanctioned, I had to help create the razor's edge she now stood on. She could die and if she did, it was all my fault. She was pregnant because of me and because I was fucking cursed.